Requiem for a Knight
by AriaAdagio
Summary: When Nick suffers an unexpected turn of fate, someone sends him help from above. Set after Be My Valentine, assuming things weren't interrupted by LaCroix.


REQUIEM FOR A KNIGHT  
  
Standard disclaimers apply. I don't own any of the   
characters in this story, I'm just messing with their lives  
a little bit. Any similarities to other stories or real   
life happenings are purely unintentional / coincidental.   
Permission is granted to archive on fkfanfic.com and the ftp   
site. All other's please ask, I'd just like to keep track   
of it.  
  
This fanfic contains A LOT of WHAMs (Wistful Heart-wrenching   
Agonizing Moment) but I assure you, all (or almost all) will  
be right in the end.   
  
This is a NNPacker story (heh, gee what a surprise) that is  
very Nick-centric. As I said before, this is not a overly   
happy story, so be warned. It IS NOT a continuation of my  
When Darkness Falls series, just thought I should make that  
clear. I wrote this one night when I was struck with the  
question, what would Nick do if (you can fill this part in  
as you read, I don't want to spoil it)? In the series   
timeline, this story follows series canon until late in the  
second season. It splits off around Be My Valentine and   
assumes that LaCroix didn't interfere with Nick and Nat's   
budding relationship.  
  
All comments may be sent to Diane Harris at aria5@vt.edu.  
I hope that you enjoy it, I had fun writing it :)  
  
REQUIEM FOR A KNIGHT  
  
LACROIX REFLECTS  
  
Life isn't fair is it, gentle reader? It is funny to think  
of the universe as having a cruel sense of humor. But alas,   
I assure you, it does. Most cruel. The paupers on the   
street, the abandoned children, the murdered victims of   
today's unkind world, they will all attest to the truth of   
my statement.   
  
It's simple really. You don't always get what you want. In  
fact, getting what you want should be considered a delicacy  
of fine cuisine, to be tasted and relished when one has the  
rare chance to sample it. Alas, my poor Nicholas learned  
that lesson too late.  
  
He allowed himself to love. Love... An infectious thing,   
an awful disease of the heart that is bound to attack almost   
any mortal. How it rips at the heart and grates the soul.   
I learned to spare such feeling for only special occasions.   
But Nicholas gave it freely, and he paid a terrible price.   
  
And so observe, dear reader, this sad tale of woe, more so   
than Juliet and her Romeo...  
  
*****  
  
THE TALE BEGINS  
  
The alarm woke him up. Monotonous, ringing, shrill, and   
most annoying it was... But it reminded him to get up. In  
fact, if it weren't for that wretched noise, he might never  
get out of bed. It was too hard.  
  
Not yet opening his eyes to the harsh light, he groaned and   
slapped blindly at the merciless contraption. It fell to   
the floor with a thump, shutting itself off in the process.   
Silence. Blessed silence. He sighed in relief and lay   
there quietly breathing with his hands over his eyes, trying   
to convince himself to just get up and get it over with. He   
didn't want to... He knew that the moment he opened his   
eyes he would be greeted with _something_ that reminded him   
of her.  
  
Everything reminded him of _her_. Her. Natalie. But it   
didn't matter now. Nothing mattered now... He shrugged his   
hands off his face and took a deep breath, cleansing his   
stale lungs. He would get up and force himself to face   
another day.   
  
Nick opened his eyes, a sigh escaping his lips as he sat up  
to embrace the land of the living. Blinking rapidly, he   
felt his eyes water while they attempted to adjust to the   
bright sunlight streaming in through his windows and landing   
in glorious patches on the floor. His body had still not   
adapted to his new lifestyle, even after so many months. He   
groaned as he stretched his aching muscles and attempted to   
rub the sleep away from his eyes with his hands. Yawning   
widely, he brushed his mop of unruly blond hair away from   
his face with a swipe of his right hand. God, he was so   
tired. So very tired... He just wanted to go back to sleep   
and never wake up. At least that would end his eternal   
pain.   
  
A tiny, wretched sob escaped his lips as small soft tears   
began to stream down his cheeks. Nick quickly brushed them   
from his eyes, trying to deny that they were there. But   
they were real. His grief... well that was real too.   
Crying, it seemed, had become part of his morning ritual.  
  
He pushed himself off his bed forcibly, the muscles in his   
arms shaking slightly with the effort. He had really   
allowed himself to get out of shape... He'd never had to   
exercise before. Perhaps he could simply allow himself to   
waste away into nothing... Nick cursed lightly as he bent   
over with a groan and pulled on a wrinkled, dirty pair of   
jeans that he had left on the floor the night before, and a   
slightly unkempt black shirt.   
  
He tried _so_ desperately hard to forget her. But day in   
and day out, his thoughts were of her, and he knew it was   
killing him. The nightmares had practically made him an   
insomniac, exhausting his energy to dangerously low levels,   
but even worse was the food. His newly reactivated   
digestive system was very finicky. Half the time he simply   
didn't bother to eat. At least he didn't get sick when he   
did that... But Schanke had begun to notice that he was   
losing weight and his coworkers had tried to get him to seek   
help.   
  
He didn't. He knew that whatever some silly YUPPIE   
psychiatrist thought he could do to help him would be as far   
from helpful as anything on this earth could get. How could   
a thirty-something individual even _begin_ to understand   
Nick's eight hundred years of pain? When he had met Nat   
he'd been on a very fine edge, and losing her had been the   
final straw, the event that dropped him into the pit of   
despair he'd been so desperately running from since 1228.   
How could a psychiatrist understand that? It was simple.   
They couldn't.  
  
As he finished dressing and wandered blindly into the   
bathroom, he sighed again. A hopeless, lifeless exhalation   
of breath. What day was it? He didn't know. He never   
seemed to know anymore, what was the point? With a squint,   
he saw from his digital wristwatch that it was April 17th.   
Three whole months. Had it been that long already?   
  
FLASHBACK - THREE MONTHS PREVIOUS  
  
"Nick, are you all right?" Nat questioned, her voice   
betraying her concern as they walked through the busy   
airport. It was dawn, and the sun was already peaking out   
from behind the horizon like a child playing hide and seek.   
If she didn't get on the plane soon, Nick would fry since he   
was so intent on waiting to see her off... She wondered if   
he realized just how much he was worrying her by threatening   
to do a wonderful rendition of a flaming match head. He   
probably didn't. He could be so incredibly dense...  
  
"Yeah, Nat. I'm fine. I just wish you didn't have to   
go..." he said, dejectedly as he looked softly into her   
eyes. He so desperately wanted to accompany her to Quebec   
for the seminar on DNA splicing. _Anything_ to spend more   
time with her. He would have sat through the most boring   
coroners' seminar on the planet if it meant he could spend   
more time with her. But he couldn't go this time. There   
were no planes leaving after dark that had space left, and  
there just simply hadn't been enough notice for him to pull   
any strings.  
  
"Well, you'll have more to look forward to when I get back!"   
she said suggestively, drawing him into a passionate kiss.   
  
When he felt her steady arms wrapped around his broad   
shoulders and her moist lips covering his own, Nick groaned   
in pleasure, wondering what on earth he had ever done to   
deserve such a beautiful, wonderful woman. He broke from   
the kiss gently and looked deeply into her eyes. "Is that   
a promise?" he asked, hopefully, his eyes sparkling with a  
boyish confidence.   
  
She smiled. "Ooooooh yes," she said as she patted his lips   
with her index finger for emphasis. "I'm foreseeing that   
I'll be so distraught by the lack of your company that by   
the time I get back I'll be desperate," she said sincerely,   
though her eyes grew more and more worried as she glanced at   
the rising sun through the expansive glass windows of the   
large terminal. Nick really needed to find cover. Now.  
  
Nick paid her obvious worry no mind as he smiled at her with   
a mischievous look in his eyes. "I'll _definitely_ hold you   
to that, Natalie Lambert!"   
  
She leaned in, her hands running through his mass of unruly   
blond curls, and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "I'm  
counting on it. Now skat! Before you become a charcoal  
briquette!" She forcefully spun him around and pushed him   
away with a playful shove.   
  
Nick glanced back and grinned lopsidedly, his eyes taking on   
a guilty puppy look. "Ok Nat, I can take the hint. Bye!"   
he said as headed back in the direction that they had come   
from. He was just in time too. The sunlight was starting to   
burn as it kissed his back, but luckily the dark haven of the   
unwindowed section was not far. He would have to stay in the   
underground portion of the airport for the day.  
  
He remembered hearing her say "Goodbye!", waving frantically   
as he walked down the ramp and she disappeared from his   
view...  
  
THE PRESENT  
  
Goodbye. If only he had known it would be a permanent one   
and not the prelude to a sweet reunion he had originally   
thought it would be. He let out a soft, muffled sob. It   
was all just wishful thinking.   
  
That was the last he ever saw of her. Those were the last  
words he had spoken to her. Nat was _dead_. The thought   
turned his insides cold as it echoed through his head.   
Dead. The plane had never landed in Quebec... Nick   
squeezed his eyes shut as he heard the sound of the plane   
exploding on the runway again. It echoed through his head   
like a thundershower of jackhammers and he covered his ears   
as if it would drown out what his mind replayed for him,   
over and over again. He screamed in frustration as it   
persisted until finally, it was silent.  
  
"Oh Nat," he said with a choked sob, his breath coming in   
short ragged gasps. "Why did you have to get on that   
plane?" He put his face to in his hands, leaning his hips   
heavily on the black porcelain sink. It was almost   
laughable how cruel life could be. He had always pictured   
himself to be the one leaving Nat, forced to leave when his   
immortality made it too hard for him to stay.   
  
It had always broken his heart to think of it, but even as   
he had pursued a relationship with her, the back of his mind   
was reminding him that it would have to happen eventually.   
It always did. But that's not what fate had decided for him   
and his damned quest for mortality. It seemed intent to   
punish him from afar, finally answering his eight-hundred-  
year-old prayer only to strip away his reason for wanting   
it...  
  
He splashed cold water from the sink into his face in hopes  
that it would wash away his grief. It didn't. As usual,   
the shock of cold only took away the numbness that his   
sleepiness provided him and replaced it with the shaky   
unsettled feeling that his degraded state of health provided   
for him.  
  
Nick looked in the mirror with a stony glare, barely caring   
how terrible his twin on the other side of the glass looked.   
He was unshaven, a generous amount of stubble scattered   
about his face. His bloodshot eyes and gaunt, haggardly   
pale face also did nothing but compliment his unhealthy   
appearance. He curled his lip up in a look of self-disgust.   
  
It wasn't fair. Why the Hell was he here? Natalie had had  
her whole life ahead of her and he had more than eight  
lifetimes behind him. Yet, he had been spared. And she  
hadn't. What kind of cruel game did the universe play? It  
just wasn't fair.   
  
He absently grabbed his toothbrush out of its holder with   
one hand and the half-used tube of toothpaste from the side   
of the sink with the other. Providing his toothbrush with a   
generous blob of toothpaste, he continued to stare at his   
reflection. His reflection. He narrowed his eyes. It   
never failed now. It was always there. Always there to   
remind him just how terrible he looked. He didn't need to  
die to go to Hell, he was already there.   
  
As he brushed his teeth, he turned to look out the paned   
window at the magnificent blue sky and glaring sun. When he   
saw the giant golden circle alight in the sky, he paused   
with his toothbrush, simply staring at it in wonder. It was   
warm on his face and he closed his eyes as he let it wash   
over him, setting fire to his golden locks with brilliant   
splashes of light.   
  
The light brought tears to his eyes, but not from physical   
pain. A sob erupted outward from the pit of his chest like   
a geyser. He'd never gotten to see Nat in the sun. God,   
how he'd wanted to see her wonderful brown curls alight in   
the rays that up until three months ago would have meant his   
most painful death. Nearly choking on his toothpaste when   
another sob wracked his body, Nick quickly turned around and  
spit into the sink. He watched the pasty liquid trail in   
slow, curving, oozing paths towards the drain of the sink.   
  
He squeezed his eyes shut, but disobeying salty tears   
continued to stream down his cheek. He had loved her so   
much. So very much. She had been his soul, his reason for   
living. When she had died... it was as if his own unbeating   
heart had been ripped from his chest. That was when fate   
had played it's cruelest joke ever. He had originally   
thought it was his mind playing tricks on him, but as he had   
stood there giving Nat's eulogy to a crowd of teary eyed   
friends, family, and coworkers, his heart began to beat   
after virtually eight-hundred years of silence.   
  
FLASHBACK - THREE MONTHS PREVIOUS  
  
Nick walked somberly up towards the front of the church,  
ignoring the sick feeling in his stomach brought on by the  
religious symbols that littered the aisles, walls, and just   
about everything else. He would not allow his vampiric   
weaknesses to stop him from being there for Nat... Forcing   
his fear of the religious symbols down into the pit of his   
being he glanced around at the church. The small building   
was alight with thousands of glowing candles, their light   
reflecting off the stained glass windows like sunrays   
through the facets of a crystal.  
  
As per his request, they had decided to hold the funeral in   
the evening so that he would not have to risk the sunlight.   
It really was a lovely evening service. Natalie would've   
thought it beautiful, exactly as she would've wanted it.   
He avoided looking at the open, lacey white casket as he   
approached the pulpit. Luckily, due to her position on the   
plane, her body had been recovered in one, fairly intact   
piece, which was more than most of the grieving families   
from the crash were given. But he knew that if he were to   
look and see her body lying there cold and lifeless amongst   
the white satin in the interior of the coffin, he'd lose it   
for certain.   
  
Closing his eyes to gain his composure, he situated himself   
where the minister had just been as he had lead a prayer.   
Clearing his throat softly, he looked out over the crowd of   
people. They were silent, waiting for him to speak. He saw   
Schanke looking at him sincerely from the back of church   
with a look of encouragement in his eyes and he felt   
compelled to being speaking, but for some reason he could   
not find his voice. It was as if it had been lost in the   
void of his own grief. That was when Nick's vision started   
to fail as tears watered in his eyes and threatened to begin   
their trek down his pale cheeks..   
  
Nick closed his eyes, not letting the tears fall. While his   
body was desperate to express his sadness, he simply   
couldn't allow it. If he were to cry here, in public,   
people would surely notice the red blood tears. He gulped,   
envisioning the horrified reactions he would receive if that   
were to happen. He would have to save his grief for Nat for   
later, when he was alone.  
  
He began his short prepared speech quietly, barely trusting   
his own voice to function. "Nat... Nat was a wonderful   
friend to all of us. What can I say about her?" he said,   
his prepared speech suddenly becoming lost somewhere in the   
dark corners of his mind. He choked on a sob, he couldn't   
do this... But he forced himself to continue, glazing his   
eyes over and looking at the crowd, but not really looking.   
"She was kind to everyone, her cheerful presence always   
brightened the room. Generous, never selfish, and always   
thinking of others before herself, she found a place in each   
and every one of our hearts..." he ended his sentence in a   
pained gasp.  
  
Pausing his speech momentarily, Nick felt a lump forming in   
his throat. The queasiness in his stomach was increasing to   
a rather uncomfortable level, but he continued to ignore it.   
He had to do this for _her_. Looking at the crowd, he   
noticed that people were beginning to whisper during his   
long pause. He even overheard someone wondering aloud if   
Nick was going to make it through his speech.  
  
Nick knew that he couldn't stay up there in the pulpit much   
longer, so he tried to wrap up much sooner than he had   
planned. He only hoped that Nat would understand. "We will   
miss her very much, I know how much everyone loved her..."   
his voice was running out of volume as he continued onward,  
"God knows that I loved her more than my own life..." his  
voice finally died in a tiny, heart-wrenching gasp as he   
sobbed aloud.  
  
That was when it happened. He felt his chest constrict and  
there was a blast of pain that started in his chest and   
seeped outward towards the tips of his fingers and toes.   
Shaking with fear, he squeezed his eyes shut as waves of   
nausea roller-coasted through his system. Feeling like he   
had been hit by a semi, he threw his torso forward with a   
grunt and gripped the sides of the pulpit with shaky, white-  
knuckled hands. He swallowed thickly. Hearing the familiar   
loud racing 'thump-thump' of a beating human heart in his   
ears, he grew alarmed that he had allowed the vampire to be   
released.  
  
He finally dared to open his eyes, confident that they were   
not the glowing amber of his beastly counterpart. Glancing   
up at the crowd of mourners, he saw only looks of concern,   
not ones of fear. That was when he figured out that it was   
his own heart thumping in his ears. It was gone. The   
vampire was completely gone. Nick let out a startled gasp,   
breathing heavily as he tried to gain his equilibrium. It   
was a failed effort. He clutched his sides, feeling as if   
they were about to burst.  
  
In a pained, wavering voice, he managed to say, "I'm sorry,  
I can't continue..." before he collapsed to the ground in a   
dead faint.  
  
THE PRESENT  
  
Although the crowd had merely thought him to be sick with   
grief, he knew better. He had spent the entire night   
miserably regurgitating the blood he had drank for his last   
few meals, sobbing with clear salty tears in-between trips   
to the bathroom.  
  
Schanke had stayed with him that night, trying to comfort  
him like any friend would feel obligated to, but Nick   
hadn't allowed himself to be consoled. He deserved to be  
miserable. God had given him a miracle when he could have   
better used it with Nat. But who was he to question God?   
Perhaps instead of a miracle, this newfound mortality was   
intended to be punishment. If that _was_ the purpose, then   
it had certainly succeeded.  
  
Nick sighed, his breath catching in his lungs when he felt  
the tears threaten to fall again. Sinking to the floor, he  
sobbed again, shaking as he collapsed. He let out an   
anguished cry as he crumpled onto the floor with his knees   
bent and his arms out in front of him almost as if he were   
praying. He couldn't go on like this! This was no way to   
live. Not even for him. He preferred the thought of   
burning eternally in Hell for his countless sins over the   
pain of Nat's death.   
  
He sat up on the cold tile floor, his eyes squeezed shut.   
"Nat, why did you have to go? I miss you Nat..." he moaned   
softly as he continued to tremble violently, his body   
wracked with uncontrollable sobs. Through his tears, he   
prayed to God for an end. Any end.   
  
The phone rang, interrupting his private Hell. He didn't   
care. He didn't want to talk to anyone. Never again. He   
wanted to lock himself away in his loft and never come out,   
to waste away into nothing. What was the point of going to   
work? It's not like he was doing the world any good by   
showing up at work and doing nothing but mope...  
  
For some reason though, his legs forced him up off the floor  
and over to the cordless black phone by his bed. Picking up   
the damned noisy thing before it had a chance to intrude   
upon the cold silence of the loft once more, he answered   
with a shaky, "Hello?"  
  
It was Schanke on the other end. "Nick? You sound   
terrible..." his partner's voice said, filled with concern.  
  
Nick grew cold as he listened to his partner. He didn't   
deserve such concern. "Well thank you so much for your   
sympathy, Schanke," Nick said, his voice flat and hopeless.   
He didn't want sympathy. He wanted death.   
  
There was silence on the other end of the line as Schanke  
was apparently formulating what to say. "Nick, you can't  
keep acting like this. She's gone, you've got to get on  
with your life," Schanke suggested, hesitantly. He had  
said it many times before and had always gotten the same  
reaction.  
  
Nick's eyes opened wide as he stared off at some unknown  
point in the loft. The wall in front of him blurred as he   
allowed his eyes to lose focus. "You know I can't,   
Schanke..." he said, the grief cutting into his tone like a   
razorblade. "I can't," he added in a hoarse whisper.   
  
"Nick..." Schanke began with an annoyed tone that simply   
screamed, 'I can't believe you're doing this _again_'.  
  
Nick cut him off. "Listen, Schanke. Book me off, ok? I  
don't think I can come in today..." he said, a sob breaking  
his speech off at the end. He knew that Schanke would   
comply even if he didn't agree with what Nick was doing.   
He had always done so in the past.  
  
"Yeah sure, Nick. See you later..." Schanke said, a   
hopelessness entering his voice to compliment Nick's grief.   
It sounded almost like Schanke was finally giving up on him,  
and that was just as well.  
  
Nick didn't bother to say goodbye, placing the phone back   
on the hook softly. It was just too goddamned hard. Why   
did it have to be so hard? He growled in sudden rage,   
throwing the phone across the room with a mighty heave. It   
smashed against the wall with a broken disjointed beep and   
fell to the floor with a loud, echoing thump. Surprisingly,   
it was still in one piece after its fall. His throw had   
lacked his former vampiric strength, otherwise it would've   
been smashed to pieces.   
  
He approached the window in his bedroom with a look of  
anger. "Why did you have to do this to me? You could've  
changed me back earlier!" he shouted at the bright blue sky  
angrily, shaking his fists at his unseen oppressor. The   
sun merely showered more bright rays upon his withered   
figure, taunting him with its warm cheerfulness.  
  
"I can't do this anymore... I just can't..." he sobbed  
quietly as he lowered his head to stare at the floor. It   
just wasn't fair. It wasn't fair!  
  
He turned his head and looked at the drawer situated in his   
nightstand by his bed. Maybe this time he could go through   
with it... He approached the wooden drawer as it stared at   
him, daring him, begging him to come closer and open it.   
  
With a light tug, Nick pulled the drawer towards him and   
picked up the deadly object in it with an almost holy   
reverence. He rubbed it against his cheek slowly as if it   
were his lover, inhaling the acrid scent of gunpowder   
emanating from its muzzle. A loud click echoed through the   
loft and bounced off the walls as he cocked it. He put the   
Beretta 9mm to his temple, his finger frozen on the trigger,   
knuckles turning white from the tightness of his grip on the   
stock.  
  
Closing his eyes, he applied a slight pressure to the   
trigger, feeling the muzzle of the gun dig into him as he   
jammed it harder into the side of his forehead. His hand   
shook and his body tensed as he let out a soft moan. All he   
had to do was pull the trigger a little harder and his pain   
would be over. He stood there shaking. He was so ready...   
But he couldn't do it. He just couldn't. Nick lowered the   
weapon from his head, letting out a breath he hadn't known   
he was holding. He put the gun down softly on his bed.  
  
He would visit Nat's grave and talk to her for awhile.   
Maybe then he would be able to do it. He so desperately   
wanted to, but he had lacked the courage to go through with  
it yet again. "God, help me!" he cried with an anguished   
sob as he walked down the stairs and swiftly out the door.  
  
He hadn't even thought to realize someone might be listening   
to his plea...  
  
*****  
  
Natalie arrived with a brilliant flash of light into the   
loft. The air crackled with unseen power as she   
materialized, but she paid it no mind. She looked around to   
confirm she'd been dropped at the correct destination. She   
had been. Her heart did a little flutter when she saw the   
loft, empty and bleak like it usually was, although she   
noticed that it had become a bit more untidy since she had   
last seen it. She didn't dwell on that, however. It had   
been so long since she had seen him! Her jubilance nearly   
lifted her off the ground. She smiled, her pearly white   
teeth displayed quite clearly. The smile, however, was   
quickly turned to a worried frown.  
  
"God, help me!" Natalie's heart wrenched in her chest when  
she heard Nick's hopeless cry cut through the air like a   
knife. So that's why They had sent her back... She'd been   
duly warned that Nick was not quite himself, and she should   
have known Nick would not take her loss lightly, but nothing   
prepared her for what she saw next.  
  
Her eyes widened when she saw Nick stumbling down the   
staircase, unshaven and generally unwell looking. "Oh,   
Nick!" she cried in alarm, her hands flying to her cheeks in   
shock.   
  
He didn't hear her. That was to be expected though. They  
had told her that her clients wouldn't be able to see or   
hear her.  
  
When he stepped into the elevator, she followed him quickly.   
Looking at his face, she could still see traces of the   
angelic innocence that had been there on the last day she   
had seen him, but his grief had overpowered it for the most  
part. His hair was beyond repair, completely unkempt, and  
the rest of him wasn't all that well taken care of either.   
  
He was emaciated and haggard, and it broke her heart to see   
that her death had taken such a terrible toll on him. She   
watched him as he stood there with his eyes shut as if in   
pain, his chaotic breathing indicating that he was valiantly   
trying not to cry. Finally he stilled, gaining some   
composure, and she approached him hesitantly.  
  
She touched the still wet tear tracks that trailed down his   
cheek with a light sweep of her fingernail. God, how she   
just wanted to sweep him away in her arms and never let   
anything hurt him again... Her lip trembled. This was all   
her fault! But she couldn't worry about that now, she had   
been sent to help him. She placed the palm of her hand on   
the flat of his chest. "Nick... it's all right. You'll be   
ok," she said softly whispering, her voice floating through   
the air in a gentle gust.   
  
He inhaled stiffly and looked around. A small sound escaped   
his lips, somewhat like a strangled gasp, yet not. Had he   
heard her? She didn't think so. When he began to tremble,   
she grabbed him in an ethereal embrace, her arms wrapping   
around his wide frame with a ferocity all their own, but her   
action had the desired effect. Without even knowing that   
she was there, he seemed to be calming down. She touched   
her softly glowing hand to his pale face and he closed his   
eyes with a relaxed sigh. He leaned his weight back against   
the elevator wall and smiled. He looked so wonderful when   
he smiled. So at peace. "Oh Nat... that feels so good!"  
  
Nat froze, her heart stopping in her chest. Had he felt   
her? What? They told her that he wouldn't be able to do   
that... They had _told_ her! Nick's eyes shot open and   
looked straight at her with a penetrating gaze. No,   
straight through her, she corrected. His sad, ice-blue eyes   
were indeed not looking at her. He shook his head, his face   
painted with a look of disbelief. "What's _wrong_ with   
me!?" he questioned himself in a hoarse, strangled whisper,   
not knowing that Natalie was listening. His piercing eyes   
reflected his pain as his grief returned. His eyes had   
always been so expressive...  
  
Nat looked at him curiously. That had been really weird.   
They had _told_ her that under no circumstances had clients  
ever felt their presence directly, only subconsciously.   
Maybe it was because he was a vampire... Her scientific   
mind raced through a dozed different possibilities, but she   
had no time to ponder the event further, because the lift   
had stopped.   
  
Nick yanked the door to the lift open, his face showing   
strain at the physical act, and he stepped out quickly. He   
exited through the outer door and walked with no hesitation   
out into the bright sun. "Nick, no!" she cried in alarm.   
He wasn't supposed to join her yet! He still had a little   
while. He still had something very important left to do...   
But she was astonished to see that he wasn't showing any   
signs of pain whatsoever. She glanced around frantically,   
and then rested her eyes back on Nick as she chased after   
his quickly departing form.   
  
Then it hit her like a ton of bricks. Nick was mortal. He   
was a living, breathing, human being. Just like he'd always   
wanted. She almost felt like she'd been punched in the   
stomach. All that hard work to find him a cure, and then he   
just spontaneously became mortal after she died. She shook   
her head, angry at herself for being so selfish. He had   
finally done it... She felt like laughing and crying at the   
same time. He had finally gotten what he wanted, and now   
his grief was taking it away from him in little bits and   
pieces. "God, Nick, what have I done to you?" she asked in   
a pained whisper as his silently grieving form proceeded down   
the street.   
  
She had pictured him spending his days in the glorious sun   
with her, happy and carefree. Now he wasn't even taking the   
time to enjoy the wonderful rays he had missed for the   
better part of eight-hundred years. And it was all because   
of her. Because of _her_. Her fault.   
  
"I'm so sorry, Nick..." she said softly as she trailed   
behind him, stepping lightly around various pedestrians.  
  
As before, he didn't hear her.  
  
*****  
  
The cemetery was quiet. Deathly quiet. It always was,   
except for the chirping of the birds and the occasional   
visitor paying his respects. The beautifully flowered   
plots, dotted with the soft pastels and bright flashes of   
color from the gorgeous blooms gave way to huge weeping   
trees that stood watch over the magnificent resting place.   
Hundreds, thousands of people had found their final homes   
here amongst the deep green manicured lawns. But Nick was   
concerned with one of the land's permanent residents in   
particular.  
  
Nick sat heavily in front of her tombstone. He leaned   
forward and rested his head on the cold stone, allowing   
the coolness of it to sink into his warm, pale skin. "Hi,  
Nat..." he said quietly as he softly kissed the black stone  
and sat back up.   
  
He felt odd coming here, even though he did it almost every   
other day. It was strange, but it almost seemed to him like   
coming here was admitting that she was truly dead, and not   
just moved on to the next life. He absolutely _refused_ to   
think about the possibility that this was all there was,   
despite the feelings his visits here conjured. He sighed.   
His hopes of ever joining her were not well founded... He   
was destined for purgatory. But... he just had to come   
here.   
  
This was all he had left of her, aside from the occasional  
momento and faded picture. It was strange, but he felt   
closer to her when he visited her burial site. He let out  
a muffled sigh, wondering how she was and if she was happy.   
Although he felt guilty for thinking it, he wondered if she   
missed him as much as he missed her. He dreaded to think   
that she might not even care about him anymore...   
Shivering at the thought, he stared at the stone marker of   
her resting place. Natalie Lambert. Beloved Friend. Or at   
least that's what it said. He knew she was so much more   
than that... It made him feel cold inside to see it, so   
very cold... so very dead.   
  
He merely sat on top of the plot with his knees pulled to   
his chest in silence, sobbing softly, completely oblivious   
to the passing of time. A cool breeze ruffled his already  
mussed hair as it blew through, but he paid it no mind.   
Nick took in a deep breath and let out a sigh, letting the  
fresh air cleanse his tortured soul. Why did things have to   
be so hard?  
  
"Nat, I really miss you," he said sadly to no one in   
particular. His stomach grew queasy as his mind again   
replayed that last time he had seen her. That was a memory   
that surfaced all to much and it was difficult to bear.   
Every time he relived it he felt like a piece of his soul   
had been ripped away. Sighing heavily, he put his forehead  
to his knees and took several deep breaths. The nausea   
passed, but his grief did not.   
  
He gripped himself in a tight hug, trying to deny the   
coldness that was setting into his frame and crashing down  
around him like a waterfall. "I love you..." he said   
desperately, his voice fading away into nothing as a sob   
ripped through his body and tore him to pieces. He saw an   
image of her face, projected by his mind before his eyes,   
fade away into blackness. Reaching out with his hand, his   
outstretched fingers met only air. He let the tears fall   
once again, shaking violently as he lay down on top of the   
damp grass that covered her plot.  
  
Not caring about the wetness of the grass seeping into his  
jeans, he laid there with the side of his face in the dirt.   
This was as close as he'd ever get to her now... As close   
as he'd _ever_ get. He closed his eyes and lay still for a   
moment, absorbing the smells and the sounds around him.  
  
Strangely, he felt soothed as he lay there, almost as if   
someone were massaging his back in slow smooth circles. He   
groaned in pleasure as he felt his sadness lift from his  
chest and for the first time in weeks he felt like the one-  
hundred-ton weight had been removed from its crushing   
position on his chest.   
  
He heard a faint tingling of bells in the background, but  
oddly he couldn't see any wind chimes nearby. Still, the   
mystical sound continued to seep through the air, even with   
the apparent lack of a source. Strange... "Nick, don't   
worry, it'll be all right. You're fine..." the voice   
floated over the air like a light mist. It sounded so   
familiar... yet... distant somehow... Sitting up sharply,   
he felt the soothing presence brush his face softly and he   
quickly forgot about his previous puzzlement.   
  
Whatever was happening to him felt absolutely wonderful.   
He leaned back and sighed as the tension in his muscles was  
slowly relieved. It was like a touch from an angel... a   
cool breeze blowing over his skin without any movement of  
air. It felt like... like...  
  
FLASHBACK - FOUR MONTHS PREVIOUS  
  
"Oh, Nat! That feels wonderful!" he groaned as she lightly  
massaged the tension away from his strained muscles. Her   
hands were like feathers, brushing softly over the bare skin   
of his shoulders, and it felt positively wonderful. Nick   
let his head fall back against the back of the couch,   
completely giving in to the relaxing sensations her   
practiced hands were generating.   
  
Natalie smiled, happy that she was able to help him. Nick   
had been so tense... The case that he had been working on   
had really gotten to him. She had seen him struggle to keep   
the vampire at bay as he had approached the terrible scene   
of bloodbath and mayhem, and he had had to leave the scene   
early when he couldn't contain his bloodlust any longer.   
Although he had said he was fine as he had walked off, she   
had seen a glint of his fangs and knew he was lying. It was   
so incredibly typical of him, denying that anything was   
wrong for what he thought was her benefit.   
  
Sighing, she finished working on his shoulders and attempted   
to move to his back. "Lie down, Nick," Nat commanded his   
relaxed figure as she gestured for him to stretch himself   
out face-down on his black leather sofa. He looked at her   
with some level of nervousness, but complied almost   
instantly. It still amazed her, the level of trust he put   
in her was astounding. He was very loath to open up to   
anyone, _especially_ to mortals. And here he was, letting   
her massage his half-naked body. She smiled wickedly at the   
thought.   
  
Nick let her do that for the better part of an hour, and by   
the end of that time, he was so relaxed he was comparable to   
Jell-O. When she finished her ministrations, his eyes were   
closed and his breathing was even. For all intents and   
purposes, he appeared to be asleep.  
  
Nat laughed softly as she stared at the alabaster smooth   
skin of his back in awe. He looked like a sleeping angel,   
innocent and unwise about the ways of the world. How ironic   
that he was a vampire, a creature that embraced the night   
and the sins that came with it. However, she simply refused   
to believe as he did that he had been shunned by God. A man   
with so gentle a heart could never be denied by Him no   
matter what terrible things he had done. At least... she   
desperately hoped not.  
  
She went and grabbed a blanket from the closet. Covering   
his cold, still form with the soft, blue fleecy material,   
she bent down and kissed him on the cheek lightly. As she   
grabbed her purse and keys to leave, she heard a faint   
"Thanks, Nat..." mumbled sleepily from the prone form on the   
couch.  
  
So, she smiled, he had been awake. "Sleep well, Nick," she  
called softly as she exited via the small lift.   
  
THE PRESENT  
  
Nick stiffened as the memory washed over his mind, and he   
felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. "Nat?"   
he called out hesitantly. There was no answer. He felt   
like his small semblance of a life was tumbling down around   
him like an avalanche. God, he was going crazy! That had   
to be the explanation...  
  
He recalled the events in the elevator before he had come   
here with a sudden dread filling the pit of his stomach.   
He had passed that off as mere wishful thinking, but now it   
had happened twice. _Twice_. In less than a few hours.   
  
"I think I'm going insane..." he said to the air, very   
concerned. But... if he were going insane, would he have   
the capacity to concern himself with it? Did crazy people   
know they were crazy? His mind raced and he began to   
breathe heavily. This was so confusing! It was like he was   
falling off a cliff without a parachute to save him. And it  
terrified him.   
  
The feeling was back... a light touch to his face... a soft   
brush on his chest... It felt soooo good... and yet at the   
same time he wanted to run for his life. It was quite   
disconcerting. What the Hell was wrong with him?  
  
"Stop!" he cried frantically into the air as he gripped   
himself in a tight embrace, his knees clutched to his chest   
as if they were his only lifeline. Silence. The feeling  
disappeared.  
  
His eyes widened in shock. His insanity was listening to   
him... it stopped when he told it to... like it was   
intelligent or something... He began to shake as he huddled   
there on the ground. Something was _very_ wrong with him.   
  
"Nick, I'm sorry... Please don't be frightened..." He shook  
his head. There was that voice, distant, filtering through   
the air again. And the bells... the wind chimes he had   
heard before were back. What on earth?  
  
His confusion was suddenly drowned by a flashflood of   
clarity, and he sobbed again. Perhaps he wanted so badly to   
feel Natalie's touch again that his mind was creating this   
fantasy for him as an outlet. It had felt so much like   
her... So real! But... it couldn't have been. He inhaled   
deeply. In all his eight-hundred years, he had neither seen   
nor heard of anything like this ever happening to anyone   
else. Perhaps... perhaps he really was crazy.  
  
A twig snapped somewhere to his left and he started. With a   
gasp he glanced up, only to have his eyes meet someone   
else's smack dab in front of his own. "Nick! I thought I'd   
find you here..." Schanke said gravely, his voice trailing   
off as Nick stood up sharply and almost turned straight into   
him. Nick looked at him, his face pale and his eyes wide.   
He looked terribly frightened, and it made Schanke nervous.   
"Nick?" Schanke questioned concernedly, "What's wrong?"   
  
Nick merely looked back and forth between him and Nat's   
grave. "Did you hear that?" Nick questioned Schanke   
frantically in a demanding tone, hoping against all hope   
that he had heard at least _something_. If Schanke had   
heard it, that meant he really wasn't insane. But, if   
Schanke had heard it... That meant it was real. He wasn't   
sure he wanted that either.  
  
"No, I didn't hear anything... except you. Are you all   
right? Why did you yell 'stop'?" Schanke looked at his   
partner with a discerning eye. That was apparently not the   
answer his partner had wanted to hear. Nick looked like he   
was about ready to jump out of his skin, and his eyes had a   
haunted look about him, like he had just had a one on one   
discussion with a ghost.   
  
"No... no I'm fine, Schanke..." Nick said distractedly,   
completely avoiding Schanke's second question. "Why are you  
here?" he asked, his voice wavering only slightly as he  
regained the composure he had lost when Schanke had answered  
his question with a negative.  
  
"I came to find you! I'm worried about you Nick," Schanke   
said as he looked at Nick, his brow furrowed in frustration.   
This was _just_ like Nick. He would go on and on about how  
he was fine, when it was obvious that he wasn't. It   
somewhat angered Schanke that after all these years, Nick   
still felt like he couldn't confide in him at all. But   
then, Nick hadn't been the type to open up to anyone.   
Except Nat. And she had died. Schanke felt his anger abate   
somewhat at the thought.  
  
"I _said_ I was fine! Look, Schanke, I want to... I want to  
go home now, ok?" Nick didn't even bother to wait for   
Schanke to answer his query before he began to walk off.   
Schanke observed grimly that Nick wasn't even heading   
homeward, he was just haphazardly launching off in that   
particular random direction.   
  
Schanke growled in annoyance as he turned to chase after his  
partner. "No," he said, emphasizing the word with a slow   
tone that rose in pitch, "It's NOT ok!" He grabbed Nick by  
the arm and shook him hard, stopping Nick dead in his tracks   
with wide eyes. "She wouldn't have wanted this, damnit!   
Nick, you've got to snap out of it!" Schanke cried out at   
him, rather upset that Nick needed someone to point such an   
obvious fact out to him.   
  
Nick looked like he had been slapped in the face. Schanke  
looked at his partner worriedly as Nick's breathing   
increased and his body wobbled about on his feet like it was   
going to tip over. "Schanke," he said in a pained whisper,   
"Please, I want to go home..."  
  
"No! You're going to talk to me about this! I've waited   
three months for you to snap out of it, but you haven't.   
People are starting to notice, Nick. If you're not careful,  
you'll be out of a job soon, the Captain has noticed you   
slipping. I'm worried about you, damnit, and I'm not going  
to let you waste away like this!" Schanke said, his anger  
rising to the surface as his rant went on and on. His face  
turned crimson as he thought about just how long he had let  
this slide. With a firm determination, Schanke decided that  
there was no way that Nick was getting out of this this time.  
  
Nick bit back a sob. How could he make Schanke understand   
what Nat had meant to him? Of course, Schanke had not even   
the slightest inkling of the whole picture, that he had been  
a vampire. A tear slid down his cheek and he hastily wiped   
it away. "Schank..." he cried softly, unable to finish as  
his knees began to collapse underneath him and waterfalls of   
blackness carpeted his vision.  
  
He was caught by Schanke's firm arms before he could fall to   
the damp ground. Schanke looked at him with concern as he   
stood Nick back up, gently. Schanke had a vague inkling as   
to the cause of his partner's sudden collapse... "Nick?   
When was the last time you ate?" he questioned, the concern   
in his voice tangible.   
  
Nick stared at him, his head still spinning, confused at the   
sudden subject change. That was actually a good question.   
When was the last time he had eaten and kept it down? He   
couldn't remember. The last time he had tried to eat, his   
stomach had barely kept the food down for ten minutes before   
it all came back up. "I don't know..." he said, forlornly.  
  
"You don't know? How could you not know? What, did you   
just decide to wait until you collapse, like now?" Schanke  
said as he looked at him incredulously. Maybe Nick was in  
far worse shape than even he had thought... Hell, the man  
was starving himself.   
  
Nick merely looked at the ground ashamedly, so Schanke took   
the initiative. "Look, Nick. I'm going to take you home,   
I'm going to feed you, and then you've got a _lot_ of   
talking to do because to tell you the truth, I'm sick of   
this!" Schanke said. Although he didn't show it, he was   
terrified that the only response Nick gave was a silent nod.   
  
At first, Schanke had accepted Nick's grief as a natural   
thing. Hell, if Myra had died he was sure that he would've  
been as broken up, if not more, than Nick was about Nat.   
But the grief had remained, to the point where it was   
becoming destructive to Nick's health and to his life. And   
_that_, well that he just couldn't allow. The man was   
hurting, and he had to help. He couldn't just stand by and   
watch Nick slowly destroy himself.   
  
Schanke patted Nick on the back and guided him back towards  
his waiting car, trying to ignore the tears trailing quietly  
down his partner's cheeks. He silently prayed that it   
wasn't too late to help his partner. His best friend...  
  
*****  
  
"Here, Nick. Eat that," Schanke said as he placed a hot   
bowl of vegetable soup down on the table in front of Nick.   
They were back at the loft, Schanke had had to practically  
drag Nick in through the elevator. After forcefully sitting  
him down at his small dining room table, Schanke had gone   
through each and every one of his cabinets. He had been   
horrified to find that the only edible items Nick had were   
a can of pickles and some vegetable soup. Who the heck   
subsisted on pickles and soup!? Schanke, had opted for   
giving Nick the soup, but now he grew worried again upon   
looking at his partner, now looking down at the table   
blankly.  
  
Nick merely stared at the steaming bowl, as if he didn't   
know what to do. "Go ahead, Nick. Eat it," Schanke prodded  
gently. He felt like he was trying to coax an mistreated   
dog out from underneath the bed or something...  
  
"I'm not hungry, Schanke..." Nick said softly as he placed   
his head in his hands. He didn't want to eat... it would   
only make him sick. Not to mention it would remind him of   
his cursed mortality. The mortality he had gotten at the   
expense of Nat's death. It wasn't fair, damnit!  
  
Schanke rolled his eyes. "Fine then! I'll force it down   
your throat if I have to!" he said as he got up and   
approached Nick with a look of menace. "I will not stand by  
and watch you slowly kill yourself Nick," he said as Nick  
looked up at him with a look of shock. "What, you didn't  
think I'd noticed?" Schanke questioned with amazement, but   
Nick merely stared at the floor in silence. Finally after   
several moments, he heard Nick begin to speak, hopeless and   
full of grief.  
  
"It just makes me sick, Schanke..." Nick glanced at Schanke   
for his reaction, but quickly looked back at the floor.   
Maybe Schanke would leave him alone now...  
  
Schanke blanched. If Nick hadn't been eating for such a   
long time because it made him _sick_ why hadn't he gotten   
help? It was a scary thought. "Sick?" Schanke queried,   
still not quite believing what he had heard.  
  
"Yeah, I can't seem to keep anything down..." Nick sounded   
almost ashamed.  
  
Schanke was beginning to look at his partner in a new light   
when something occurred to him. "I thought you said that   
you cured your allergies?" he prodded.   
  
Nick looked at him grimly. "Well consider this a side   
effect..."   
  
Schanke looked at the table and the soup silently. Nick   
hadn't told him before that the food was making him ill.   
Why hadn't he _told_ him so he could've gotten the help he  
needed before it had gotten to this point? Schanke,   
however, was torn from his thoughts when Nick broke the   
deafening silence that had ensued.  
  
"I can't live without her, Schanke." Those quiet words said   
it all. Schanke saw a certain aged horror in Nick's eyes as   
he'd said it, almost like he felt too old for his years.   
  
Schanke sat quietly back down and looked at Nick earnestly.  
"Nick, I know how you feel, but she wouldn't have wanted you  
to..." he was cut off by a sudden burst of anger from Nick.  
  
"You have NO IDEA how I feel!" Nick yelled at his partner in  
rage. His muscles shook with tension as he stood up and   
threw his chair aside. How could Schanke, a mere child   
compared to him, even _begin_ to know how he felt? Of   
course, Schanke would never know. Nick could never tell him   
the full story. He couldn't tell him about his vampiric   
past even if he had wanted to, the enforcers had seen to   
that... Nick had been forced to promise that he would never   
speak a word about his former vampiric existence, and he was   
forbidden to even make contact with the vampire community.  
  
FLASHBACK - THREE MONTHS PREVIOUS  
  
"Nicholas... What have you done?" LaCroix's voice oozed   
through the air of the candlelit loft, filled with amazement   
and resentment all at the same time. His master looked at   
him with a piercing stare.  
  
"I... I don't know. It just... happened," Nick said,   
hesitantly. He prepared himself for LaCroix's wrath, but he   
received none. Only a calculating stare. He tried to   
ignore his shaking hands, but he was genuinely afraid.   
LaCroix _could_ hurt him now and he had no doubts whatsoever   
that LaCroix had no compunctions about killing him. He was  
as mortal as they came, with a stead beating heart. That   
was all it would take.  
  
LaCroix looked at him coldly, his expression betraying   
nothing. So... Nicholas had found a cure and denied the   
gift of eternal life. Finally LaCroix elected to speak.   
"What do you mean, it just happened? What of your silly   
attempts at a 'cure' with the good Doctor Lambert?" LaCroix   
taunted, spitting out the word 'cure' like it was a taboo,   
not to be said under any circumstances. Nick tried not to   
pay attention to how smug he looked.   
  
"She's dead, LaCroix..." Nick said softly, the tears   
beginning to flow freely now. Although he had originally   
set out to control himself, Nick failed dismally. But it   
didn't matter. He didn't give a damn if LaCroix saw him   
like this. He didn't care at all, about anything.   
  
LaCroix looked at Nick with wide eyes, but he only allowed  
his astonishment to show for a microsecond before he tucked   
it away behind his stone-faced front. He supposed that   
Nicholas was expecting a somewhat more violent reaction   
based on his look of astonishment. But he had something   
different in mind. Perhaps he could convince Nicholas that   
he actually wanted to be a vampire... After all, LaCroix   
found it hard to believe Nicholas even knew how to be   
anything else, what with the majority of his life spent as   
one. He leaned in towards his 'son' and stared at him with   
a stone cold gaze. "I can take you back, Nicholas," he   
paused briefly and let a seductive tone fill his voice as he   
continued "You know that it is what you want..."   
  
He pulled Nick towards him and turned him around, tilting   
his head sideways to expose his neck. Only Nick's nervous   
gasp could be heard as LaCroix ran his fingers lightly over   
Nick's neck. Brushing Nick's soft blond hair lightly with   
his fingers, LaCroix smiled. His 'son' was trembling in his   
grasp. Nicholas was _afraid_ of him and he was showing it.   
Feeding on that fear, he snarled briefly, letting his fangs   
descend as he hovered over the warm neck of his former   
child. He listened to his 'child's' heartbeat, the loud   
thumping nearly hypnotizing him into a drunken state. It   
had been exquisite the first time he had brought Nick   
across, the second would no doubt be just as wonderful.  
  
LaCroix lowered his mouth to Nick's neck, preparing himself  
for the ecstasy that was Nick's blood as his lips brushed   
against Nick's soft pale skin. "No." The word stopped him   
cold and he backed away from his errant 'son' in shock.   
Nicholas had dared to refuse his offer? Perhaps he had been   
wrong in his earlier assumptions.  
  
"What?" LaCroix's voice sounded somewhat annoyed and quite   
harsh in Nick's ears.  
  
"You heard what I said, LaCroix. I don't want that. You   
know that I don't..." Nick's voice trailed off as he looked  
at his former master with tear-filled eyes. He silently   
prayed that LaCroix would accept what he said and respect   
his wishes.  
  
LaCroix merely snorted indignantly. "You realize that the  
enforcers will kill you..." he said, a haughty tone entering  
his voice. But secretly LaCroix knew that he had finally   
lost the eight-hundred year battle to keep his 'son' in the  
fold.   
  
"I know, LaCroix," Nick said flatly, flinching slightly when  
he saw his master's angry stare.  
  
"_You_ are a fool, Nicholas..." And with that... LaCroix   
left in a swift gust of air, not bothering to say goodbye.  
  
Nick looked down at the floor as a tear slid down his cheek.   
"I know," he said softly. Although he doubted LaCroix could  
have heard him, he said it anyway. Because it was the   
truth.   
  
THE PRESENT  
  
That was the last he had ever heard from LaCroix. The   
enforcers hadn't killed him when they had visited shortly   
after as he had expected they would, but shortly after they   
visited, LaCroix quit his job at CERK and moved on to God   
knows where. Nick shivered, wondering if the enforcers had   
compelled the two thousand year old vampire to move or if he   
had left of his own volition. What kind of power would it   
have taken to get the ancient to move? It scared Nick just   
to think of it, more so now than when he had been a vampire.   
Nick had been lucky, _extremely_ lucky, that the enforcers   
had shown some leniency and allowed him to close the final   
chapter in his life as a vampire without having the final   
sentence involving his death.  
  
Nick shook himself from his thoughts as he went over to the  
window and stared out at the sunset with a blank look on his  
face. It was sunset already? He stared at the wisps of   
heavenly oranges and purples that streaked through the sky   
like and abstract watercolor painting and knew that his   
observation was correct. Just how long had he spent at   
Nat's grave? He had no time to dwell on it, however,   
because Schanke had placed a hand softly on his shoulder and   
had begun talking.  
  
"Nick, you just can't do this to yourself. Granted, maybe I  
don't know exactly how you feel, but I do know how much you   
loved her. I'm not asking you to forget that, I'm just   
asking you to try to accept what's happened and move on.   
You need to take care of yourself Nick," Schanke said   
quietly behind him, and Nick could detect a tightness in his  
voice as if he were trying hard not to let his calm visage   
fall apart.  
  
Nick couldn't bring himself to look at him, partially out of   
shame for putting his friend through so much worry, and   
partially because he knew he couldn't comply. He wanted so   
desperately to do exactly as Schanke had said. He knew his   
grief would only destroy him, Hell, it already had. But it   
was _so_ hard! He just couldn't forget Nat as if she were a   
bad chapter in a good book. She wasn't some character on a   
page that could be easily ignored, she'd been his hope, his   
faith, and his love. And now she was gone.  
  
He stared silently at the sunset, its soft light glowing on   
his face and making him look infinitely more pale. Was that   
where Nat was? It was fitting... It was at times like this   
that he wished he hadn't been robbed of his gift of flight,   
the one vampiric quality he had enjoyed. He felt, somehow,   
that if he could just fly out there and mingle with those   
beautiful pastels and whispy clouds that everything would be   
all right. The feeling merely increased his longing.  
  
He sighed. After allowing himself to stare out at the   
sunset for a bit longer, he turned to face Schanke. "I'm   
trying _so_ hard to forget, Schank... I just can't, all   
right?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper.   
Schanke's only response to his question was a nearly   
imperceptible nod. With a look of shame Nick slowly picked   
up the chair he had knocked aside and replaced it to its   
proper spot, sitting down heavily after he had done so.   
Schanke joined him again at the table, sitting across from   
him at the other end.   
  
Nick picked up the spoon that was in the now cold soup and   
began to eat it slowly. He really was very hungry... The   
coolness of the soup surprised him as it slid down his   
throat, the tangy taste of the soggy vegetables floating in  
the yellowish liquid giving his senses somewhat of a jolt.   
He had never had soup, at least not that he could remember.   
It tasted _different_ than he had expected it would. It sat   
heavily in his stomach, and for a bit, he thought he would   
have to excuse himself to the bathroom, but the feeling soon   
passed. However, after a few more swallows, his stomach was   
again threatening to rebel and he felt like dozens of   
butterflies had taken refuge there. Luckily, he had already   
eaten enough soup to satisfy Schanke, so he stopped.  
  
Swallowing thickly, a thought suddenly occurred to him and   
he looked up. "Schanke, do you believe in ghosts?" he   
asked, genuinely curious. Perhaps what had happened to him   
hadn't been his imagination. A part of him really wanted it   
to be real. It gave him hope, that maybe he could see Nat   
just one more time. His thought leaped at the thought.  
  
"What?" Schanke looked perplexed. Why would Nick ask a   
silly question like that at a time like this?  
  
"I _asked_ if you believed in ghosts," Nick repeated, this  
time enunciating quite clearly. He was slowly beginning to  
realize that asking was a mistake. Schanke was already   
worried, asking such an off the wall question would only   
worry him more.   
  
"I _heard_ what you said, but why do you ask?" Schanke   
questioned his partner, his tone growing slightly suspicious   
as he purposely dodged Nick's inquiry.  
  
"Never mind, it was a dumb question. Sorry," Nick hastily  
rectified his slip. It was stupid to think Schanke might   
actually believe him if he were to relate his experiences in   
the elevator and at Nat's grave. Nat was _dead_. The   
bitter reality of it slapped him in the face as if he were   
realizing it for the first time. Dead. There was no way   
he'd ever see her again until he grew old and died. And   
with the scars of sin on his soul, even then, it was iffy.   
He'd just have to accept that.  
  
They sat in an uncomfortable silence for several moments   
that stretched into an eternity. After what seemed like   
hours, Schanke gave Nick an apologetic look and got up,   
slapping his thighs in a gesture of closure as he did so.   
"Well Nick, as much as I'd like to stay, Myra is expecting   
me home soon. Will you be all right if I leave you? You'll   
be at work tomorrow, right?" he asked hopefully. They had   
broken some ice tonight. This was the first time they had   
really talked in awhile. His partner was hurting. Bad.   
But it looked like he was _slowly_ on the mend.   
  
"Yeah, Schanke. I'll be fine, and I'll come to work   
tomorrow," Nick finally answered in a defeated tone.   
Although he realized that he had to, he really didn't want   
to go to work at all. He had enough money to live without   
working and it just wasn't worth the torment to his heart.   
The pain practically ate up his insides whenever he had to   
go to the Coroner's Building to get information on a case   
from the new head M.E. But... Schanke would never let him   
live it down if he retired.   
  
Schanke nodded silently and left via the lift, grabbing his  
light gray trench coat as he went. Nick sighed in relief  
after Schanke had finally disappeared through the door. He  
knew that Schanke was only trying to help, but for Nick it  
only made it hurt more.   
  
His chest constricted and he breathed rapidly, trying to   
overcome a sudden onslaught of grief. He would _not_ let   
the tears fall again. Clenching his fists, he waited until   
it passed, only letting out a relieved sigh when he was sure   
it was over.   
  
With a certain heaviness to his step, he plodded up the   
stairs and entered his bedroom. There, still on the bed,   
was his Beretta 9mm. Loaded. Ready. He reached for it   
longingly from where he stood in the doorway with his hand   
outstretched, but his feet would make no move towards the   
bed no matter how hard he tried to move them. It was as if   
they were telling him he was wrong to think the handgun on   
his bed was the only way out. He shook his head. Fury over   
how he had been reduced to such contemplation swept through   
his body like a brush fire.   
  
Nick stalked over and angrily swept the Beretta off the bed,   
paying it no mind as it hit the floor with a sick thud. As   
the sound echoed through the oppressive silence, he let   
himself fall to the bed with a heaving breath. He just   
couldn't do it. Why? Was he a coward for not wanting to   
face up to his sins? Rage coursed through his body at the   
thought, shaking his conscience until it rattled. Maybe   
tomorrow... With that single thought on his mind, he fell   
into a restless sleep.  
  
*****  
  
Nat stared at Nick's sleeping form, her eyes filling with   
tears as she got a really good look at him. His hair was   
slightly mussed and he had a disturbed expression on his   
face, similar to that of a lost little boy, even as he   
slept.   
  
It was nothing like he used to look when he slept, so   
innocent and young. He looked like he had aged years in   
only the past few months. Hints of wrinkles were clawing   
at the corners of his eyes and his face was deathly pale,   
almost as if he were still a vampire. It was as if his   
heart and soul had withered and left a dying old man with   
nothing left to live for in his place. Nat couldn't help   
but shiver when she realized it might be true.   
  
Nat looked over to the small handgun that Nick had swept to   
the floor in a fit of anger. She let out a small sob as she   
bent over his silent form and brushed his face with a   
glowing hand, relishing the feel of his warm skin underneath   
her fingers. It was obvious that he was trying to kill   
himself, and her heart wrenched in her chest when she   
thought of how much his grief over her death had hurt him.  
  
She brushed a stray lock of his unruly blond hair away from   
his face. He looked so tired. So alone. A tear slid down   
her cheek and made its way lazily into the clutches of   
gravity. Seeing his like this made her so incredibly sad.   
Even when trying to comfort him it seemed as though she   
horribly messed things up every time.  
  
She shuddered when she remembered how upset he had been at   
her grave... Even worse, she had only fueled his confusion.   
For some reason, he had been able to hear her and feel her.   
It had hurt when she had seen the fear in his eyes, she'd   
only been trying to help him. What was worse was that she   
couldn't reveal herself to him. It was against Their own   
private code, and They had told her specifically that she   
could only give him a subconscious boost.   
  
And right now, Nick need as much boosting as he could get.   
Nick had been on a razor-sharp edge, straddled between a   
world of vampires and a world of mortals, not really fitting   
in either one. Now he had been relentlessly thrust into the   
mortal one with no one to guide him, no one for him to   
confide in. That should have been her job. Now, she was  
simply to comfort him until his time came. Until he had   
found his redemption. His peace. His soul...  
  
Natalie laughed bitterly as she peered over him. Life could   
be so cruel. So incredibly cruel. She brushed his face   
again with a luminescent hand. His face was so soft... At   
least where there wasn't prickly stubble, it was like   
velvet. She longed to touch him for real, to run her   
fingers through his hair, to embrace him with every ounce of   
strength that she had, all the things that she used to do to   
comfort him when he was distressed.  
  
She was startled from her thoughts when Nick began to mumble  
in his sleep, showing some distress over whatever dream he   
was having. His breath was coming in ragged gasps as he   
continued to mumble. It sounded almost like... archaic   
French. With her limited high school French, she was able   
to loosely translate it into, "No! Please don't go..."   
Over and over he said it, shaking with an intensity that   
would've been painful for him had he been awake. Lying down   
on the bed next to him, she wrapped her arms around his chest   
and hugged him tightly. Perhaps she could still offer him   
comfort, even if he wouldn't know she was the one giving it.  
  
*****   
  
She brushed her curly brown hair to the side with her hand   
and waved at him, smiling with a sickly sweet curl of her   
upper lip. "Goodbye Nick! I'll call you when I'm back   
from Quebec!"  
  
Nick saw her from across the terminal, but the distance   
between them seemed insurmountable. He had to warn her! He   
had to stop her from getting on that plane before it was too   
late. The sound of a jet passing overhead nearly knocked   
him flat. His heart launched into a series of rapid beats   
when he saw her pick up the carryon bag that was sitting   
beside her feet... No. NO. "Nat! You can't get on the   
plane!" he tried desperately to scream at her to come back,   
but the words came back to his ears as a mute whisper. She   
started to wave again, almost as if she was mocking his   
failing attempts to stop her. "NAT, NO!" he tried again,   
but again he failed, his voice hoarse with strain.   
  
He launched through the terminal with frightening speed,   
trying to catch her, but it was as if he was on a treadmill.   
The distance between them actually seemed to be increasing   
the faster he went. He was about to take off into the air,   
consequences be damned, but suddenly, there was a crowd all   
around him, a sea of heartbeats that couldn't be silenced.   
  
He turned to the left. "Sir, I hope you have a wonderful   
day with Air Canada..." the woman he practically sent   
sprawling to the floor spouted in a saccharine tone.   
Screaming in frustration, he turned to the right only to   
trip over a lady's suitcase. With a yelp of surprise he   
went sprawling to floor, but he still clawed his way   
desperately forward. The crowd was clawing at him,   
screaming in his ears, but he kept his eyes focused on her.   
Nat Nat Nat Nat Nat Nat. He cried out as a particularly   
vicious patron ripped his shoe from his right foot.   
  
Nat was still waving as if nothing were wrong, and she   
started to turn towards the entry ramp. "NAT!" He gained  
his footing back and scrambled through the swarm of people,  
dodging this way and that, but they kept coming and coming.   
  
"Air Canada is the key to business success. We provide   
discounts for first class passengers..." The woman from   
before was back and her voice rang through his ears. He   
felt ill, but he had to keep going.  
  
PAIN! He was in the windowed portion of the terminal, the   
sunlight was bombarding him in a rain of spears. Nick   
cried out in fury and pain as his skin started to burn and   
flake like dry paper. He fell to the ground again, blinded   
by the intense light as it seared his eyes.  
  
He had to keep going. He had to stop her! Groping blindly,   
he headed towards where he had last heard her, but the pain   
was too much and he collapsed again, with his hand   
outstretched in a final plea to Nat to heed his cries.   
  
Curling into a tight ball with his arms curled around his   
abdomen, he prayed for an end. Anything to stop the pain.   
He could feel his insides incinerating, but for some reason   
the end never came. Suddenly, a deafening boom nearly sent   
him flying backwards across the floor. The sound echoed   
through the din, rumbling in his ears like metal screaming   
as it would were it being torn apart. "NAT!" His voice was   
utterly dead. Nothing came out of his mouth as he screamed   
her name, over and over again through his pain, "Nat! Nat!   
Nat! Nat! Nat!"  
  
Then, as if he had been doused in darkness, the sun stopped   
burning. The pain was gone as if it had never been and he   
got up shakily, barely noting that his skin was completely   
unscathed from the previous onslaught of harmful light. He   
ran without hesitation onto the runway. Everything was   
gone. The plane was drowning in a sea of flames as rubble   
continued to fall to the ground, thumping loudly as each   
piece hit the pavement and surrounding grass of the runway.   
  
He coughed as the whisps of smoke entered through his   
nostrils and seared his lungs. Ignoring the burning   
sensation it promoted, Nick peered around desperately   
through the haze of black smoke. Nothing. Nothing left.   
There was nothing left.  
  
He sobbed, a small lost broken sound escaping his lips as he  
began to tremble. It was all his fault. He didn't warn her  
in time. She was gone. Gone. She was gone. Why was she  
gone? Because of him. It was his fault and she was gone.  
  
"No I'm not, Nick," a voice said through the clouds of hazy   
smoke. He looked up to see Nat walking ethereally towards   
him through the debris in an angelic white robe almost as if   
she were floating across the black pavement of the runway.   
Her translucent skin glowed like candlelight underneath   
white silk, and he stared at her in wonder. She was directly   
in front of him now. What trick of magic was this? He let   
out a small gasp when she placed her hand on his shoulder.   
Nick felt all his pain seeping out of his body through that   
simple contact.   
  
Not trusting his voice, he simply stood there and closed his  
eyes when she took him into a tight embrace. This wasn't   
real. Nat was _dead_. Dead. She was DEAD.  
  
"No I'm not, Nick," she said firmly. "I live in you. My   
heart is a part of yours now. Never forget that," she   
whispered softly into his ear, her voice like a feather in   
his ear. How had she known what he was thinking?   
Impossible.  
  
With a wave of her hand, they were no longer on the dreaded  
runway. They were back in his bedroom at his loft. This   
was too much. He shook his head in disbelief. "Stop it!   
You're dead! I _killed_ you!" he said, his voice sounding   
like someone punched his stomach as it escaped in a pained   
wheeze. He felt the guilt crushing him like a vice as he   
struggled to remain standing.  
  
"No you didn't Nick. You're not to blame, you couldn't have   
known the plane was going to explode," Nat maintained with a   
calm expression on her face.  
  
"But I should have!" Nick yelled at her in denial,   
forgetting his amazement at her presence. It was his fault.   
_His_ fault.   
  
"You couldn't have and you know it," she said evenly, but   
her eyes expressed the passion that her voice did not.  
  
"Oh, Nat... I'm sorry..." He began to cry in heavy wracking  
sobs. His body trembled in her grasp as she ran her right   
hand comfortingly through his hair. Eventually the jarring   
sobs were replaced with soft sniffles and finally one last   
shaky sigh. "Why did you have to go?" the small plaintive   
whisper tumbled through the air on wings of grief.   
  
Nat placed a finger on his lips to silence him as she   
wrapped her arms more tightly around him. He went limp in   
her grip, completely exhausted.  
  
"Let me help you, Nick," she whispered as she collapsed onto  
the bed with him curled in her arms like a lost boy. She   
kissed him softly on the back of the neck and began to   
soothe him with light touches of her hands. He groaned,   
partially in pleasure and partially in grief.   
  
"Let me help you..." Nat's voice began to disappear as her  
body began to fade.   
  
Nick snapped awake and the dream fell into oblivion,   
replaced by the evil piercing ring of his infernal alarm   
clock. He was still so tired... He felt like he'd gotten no   
sleep at all. It was always the same. He had that same   
nightmare every night. Except... this one had been   
different. He shuddered, remembering the vision of Nat's   
burned body, always coming back to haunt him in his   
nightmares. But he hadn't seen that this time. This dream   
was different.  
  
Nat had come back to him... Nick choked back a sob. If   
only that would really happen. He shook his head softly as   
he forced himself off the bed and began to get ready for   
work. Life wasn't fair. Nothing was fair.  
  
*****  
  
"Well, well, well, look who finally decided to show up for   
work!" Schanke exclaimed in amazement as a disheveled Nick  
stumbled into the office. He cringed at the tired glare he   
received from his partner. Although Nick had said he would  
come in today, Schanke had not believed that he would   
actually follow through with his promise. Despite Nick's   
awful, unshaven appearance, Schanke smiled. They were   
making progress.  
  
Nick merely growled as he took a seat at his immaculate desk.  
"What are we working on right now? Refresh me..." Nick said,  
his voice gruff and full of weariness. If Schanke hadn't   
known better, he would've thought Nick was suffering from a   
hangover.  
  
"Nick, remember, the Pickett case? Two bodies... no   
witnesses?" Schanke prodded, hoping he wouldn't have to   
review the _whole_ thing with Nick.   
  
Nick merely nodded. "Oh yeah," he said quietly, looking   
down at his desk as Schanke gently placed the files from the  
case on the flat surface for him to read over. Schanke   
noticed that Nick was purposely avoiding looking around at  
the surrounding office, and he glanced up to see what was up.  
  
The office had grown steadily quieter since Nick had come in.   
It was a rare occurrence indeed that the 'Knightmare' showed   
up lately. He'd taken almost a month and a half of his   
accumulated sick leave already... Schanke stood up and   
glared at the staring observers, daring them to do something.   
Most of them went back to working on whatever it was that   
they had been working on. Schanke shrugged and sat back   
down at his desk.   
  
"Nick..." Schanke turned to see his partner staring off   
into space, caught in some train of thought that was   
currently careening away from the task at hand at high   
velocity. He rolled his eyes and repeated himself with more   
emphasis, "NICK..."   
  
Nick shook himself from his thoughts and stared at Schanke   
expectantly. "What?" Nick questioned, looking confused at   
Schanke's sudden intrusion into his thoughts.   
  
Schanke took a deep breath and started to speak. "Nick, We  
need to go check out Jacob Corbin. He's the suspect I came  
up with last week, remember, I told you about this   
before..."  
  
"Corbin? Right, yeah. Ok," Nick said absently. Schanke   
looked at him concernedly. His partner was at work... but   
his mind was far from it. Schanke watched Nick grab his   
black duster from the rack and throw it on with a sigh.   
His eyes darting to the left, he noticed Captain Cohen   
sticking her head out of her office to peer at the fallen   
hero cop with a slight frown. Schanke knew she was just   
about at the end of her rope, and Nick didn't have much more  
time left before she took action. He shook his head. He  
really wished Nick would snap out of this. At least he had  
shown up...  
  
Nick nodded to Schanke and the pair proceeded out towards   
the precinct parking lot and into the blaring sunlight.   
Schanke visibly blanched when Nick haphazardly wandered   
towards Schanke's own beat up old Chevy, bypassing his   
Caddie sitting lonely in the distant corner of the lot.   
Taking the hint, Schanke got out his keys. Nick looked   
forlornly at his own green Cadillac as he sat in the   
passenger seat of Schanke's car, but he made no move to   
protest that he wasn't driving. Schanke simply sighed and   
turned the key in the ignition. Things were so different   
now...  
  
Nick felt like he was going to fall apart into a million   
pieces. He had tried to ignore the stares of his coworkers,   
but it was difficult when he knew that each and every one of   
their searing eyes were looking at him. When Schanke had   
handed him the report on the murder, trying to act like   
nothing was out of the ordinary, it tore him apart even   
more. He knew that he was making life difficult for just   
about everyone, but he couldn't help it. At least they   
didn't have to go to the Coroner's Building today... that   
would just be too much.  
  
After riding in silence, Schanke quietly announced that they  
were at their intended destination and then pulled the car   
over to the side of the road. Nick merely sighed, the   
depression that had been nagging at the back of his mind   
threatening to finally overcome him. Just when he thought   
he would drown in the oppressing weight of it, he felt his   
tension lift somewhat. That strange feeling he had had   
earlier at Nat's grave returned and he stiffened in response.  
  
Schanke was looking at him strangely with one of his 'Don't-  
go-weird-on-me-_again_' looks as he got out of the car, so   
Nick valiantly ignored the unsettling sensations. "Nick?   
Why don't you let me ask the questions, ok? You don't look   
all that hot right now..." Schanke said honestly, a hint of   
worry creeping into his voice.  
  
Nick nodded in silent agreement. He didn't want to ask the  
questions. Without his hypnotic powers, there was really no  
advantage to him asking them anyway, why not let Schanke do   
it? He ran a hand through his ruffled blond hair as they   
approached the door. The strange sensation had disappeared,   
but he was left with a general feeling of uneasiness and he   
wasn't quite certain the two were connected. Although it   
had been severely diminished with his reversion to   
mortality, his danger sense was still quite keen.   
  
Schanke lightly knocked on the door of the small, two-   
story, red brick house. "Jacob Corbin?" Schanke called out,  
hesitantly. He always hated questioning suspects. Who knew  
what they would do when they saw the police at the door?   
  
"Yeah, who is it?" came a muffled baritone voice from   
behind the door. The annoyed tone in the man's voice made   
it obvious that he was not pleased about the interruption.   
The hairs on the back of Nick's skin crawled. Something   
was very wrong with this situation. Very wrong.  
  
Schanke looked at Nick and then back to the door. "I'm   
Detective Schanke and this is Detective Knight. We're from   
the Toronto PD. We'd like to ask you a few questions   
regarding the murders of Samual and Janelle Pickett..." he   
said loudly into the door.  
  
Silence. Nick looked to Schanke and they both drew their   
guns from their holsters. "Sir, open the door please," Nick   
called out loudly, his cop persona finally kicking in.   
"Sir?" he questioned again.   
  
They heard a string of curses from behind the door and a   
loud thump. "Nick, he's running for it!" Schanke told his  
partner, but Nick already knew.   
  
Nick, a former predator, knew quite well how the prey would  
react if it felt threatened. It would run... "You go   
through the front, I'll go around back..." he said.   
  
Schanke smiled. "C'mon, Nick. You always take the back..."   
he complained lightheartedly, despite the seriousness of the   
situation. Some of the old Nick was apparently still in the   
walking shell of a man that now resided in his body...  
  
Nick smiled back, something Schanke hadn't observed Nick do   
in a long, long time. Seeing it had a cathartic effect.   
"I know. Now GO!" Nick said as he took off around the side   
of the house. Breathing hard, he analyzed the situation   
carefully. No windows or doors were opened, which meant   
there was a pretty good chance that the perp was still in   
the house. Waiting? Or perhaps, setting a trap for a   
certain pair of invading detectives...   
  
Still feeling some remnants of his predatory drive, he   
gripped his gun tightly as sweat beaded on his forehead   
from the adrenaline. He swiftly kicked the back door in and  
entered the house, hugging the wall immediately inside the   
door with his back as he searched the room inside with his   
eyes.   
  
Glancing around, he realized that he'd entered in through   
the kitchen. But damn, it was dark. The house had   
absolutely no lighting whatsoever... Even in the daylight,   
it was almost oppressively dark. He hadn't realized   
how much he had relied on his vampiric night-vision until   
now. Keeping his back to the wall, he sidestepped through   
a wide arched doorway into the dining room on the light feet   
of a practiced hunter. He had to keep up his guard... He   
wasn't invincible anymore.  
  
Listening carefully, straining to hear _anything_ of   
significance, he was overwhelmed by the sound of his own   
heavy breathing. Over the din of his own rapidly beating   
heart and his ragged breath, he heard a soft thump coming   
from elsewhere in the dark house.  
  
It could be Schanke. It could be Corbin. Nick tensed as he  
sidestepped into the adjoining study room, training his gun  
all about until he was certain the room had no occupants   
other than himself and a wide variety of books. There was a   
long hallway connecting this room to the next and he quickly   
proceeded along the walls and into one of the recesses along   
its side where a small chest of drawers could be kept   
without obstructing the walkway.  
  
Nick heard another thump and practically jumped out of his   
skin. He breathed in deeply and forced himself to relax a   
bit. Training his gun in the direction of the noise, he   
peered out briefly and sighed with relief when he saw   
Schanke proceeding past the mouth of the hallway cautiously.   
He wiped away the sweat dripping into his eyes with a shaky   
hand and was about to alert Schanke to his presence when he   
saw it. His heart nearly stopped when he noticed the   
ominous red dot on the back of Schanke's neck. A laser   
sight.  
  
"Schanke, look out!" he cried aloud in warning as he ran   
down the short hallway in seconds. Nick paid no attention   
to Schanke, who had barely time to react as he barreled out   
of the hallway, leaping into the air almost horizontally.   
In mid flight, he let out a shot from his trusty Beretta,   
the gun he had earlier tried to kill himself with, but not   
before he felt a blast of pain as something impacted into   
his chest.   
  
He fell to the floor, his back hitting the wall with a   
painful crack. It seemed like everything was going in slow   
motion. Although he thought he heard Schanke saying   
something about "Officer down!" he couldn't be sure. Why   
did everything feel so weird? He took a short breath,   
surprised at the effort it took. Something nagged at his   
brain until it finally registered. He'd been shot. That's   
what it was. Shot.  
  
Although it wasn't really as painful as he had expected it   
to be, Nick could feel the wetness of his own blood   
cushioning his body as he lay there crumpled on the floor   
in a heap. A certain numbness began to set it and he   
vaguely saw the man he presumed to be Jacob Corbin slump to   
the floor. Schanke suddenly appeared over him as his vision   
began to blur and fade. "Did... did I get him, Schanke?"   
Nick said, his voice slurred. He was starting to feel cold.   
So cold...  
  
He heard Schanke say with a horribly sad tone, "Yeah, Nick.   
You got him." He nodded and closed his eyes as he coughed   
up a little blood. Wasn't that a sign of internal bleeding?  
Coughing up blood was bad, wasn't it? He didn't know. He  
felt so numb. Schanke's hand was cradling his head, but he  
could barely feel it. At least he had managed to save his   
partner. It brought him comfort to know he had done   
_something_ right... But why was it so cold? He opened his   
eyes to a dark blur, but strangely, he could swear he saw   
Nat standing over him with her head bowed, weeping.   
  
"Nat?" he called, his voice containing an odd clarity to it   
despite his condition. She didn't answer. It was so   
cold... Her hand reached out and grasped his. He took a   
quick, pained breath at the feel of her hand in his.  
  
It was so cold.  
  
So incredibly cold...  
  
*****  
  
PRELUDE TO AN END  
  
-//When the dark wood fell before me  
-//And all the paths were overgrown  
-//When the priests of pride say there is no other way  
-//I tilled the sorrows of stone  
  
"Nick Knight... was a... was a brave man. He saved my life,  
and I can't thank him enough for what he's given me. A   
chance to see my Jenny graduate from high school. A chance   
to tell my wife I love her again... I've never had a better  
partner or a better _friend_ in my life. And for that, Nick  
Knight, I wish you luck and... and I hope you find Natalie,   
wherever you are now... Rest in peace."  
  
-//I did not believe because I could not see  
-//Though you came to me in the night  
-//When the dawn seemed forever lost  
-//You showed me your love in the light of the stars  
  
Nick watched somewhat sadly from the pew as Schanke   
concluded his speech, touched that someone could care that   
much about him. Schanke was of the aspects of his life that   
he would sorely miss. He let a small tear drift down his   
cheek, but he quickly wiped it away.   
  
-//Cast your eyes on the ocean  
-//Cast your soul to the sea  
-//When the dark night seems endless  
-//Please remember me  
  
"Nick? Are you coming?"  
  
-//Then the mountain rose before me  
-//By the deep well of desire  
-//From the fountain of forgiveness  
-//Beyond the ice and fire  
  
Torn from his musings, Nick glanced behind him. "Yes, Nat.   
I'm coming," he said softly with a smile. Taking one last  
look at Schanke, he crossed himself. "Goodbye, Schanke,"   
he said in a soft whisper.  
  
-//Cast your eyes on the ocean  
-//Cast your soul to the sea  
-//When the dark night seems endless  
-//Please remember me  
  
-//Though we share this humble path, alone  
-//How fragile is the heart  
-//Oh give these clay feet wings to fly  
-//To touch the face of the stars  
  
-//Breathe life into this feeble heart  
-//Lift this mortal veil of fear  
-//Take these crumbled hopes, etched with tears  
-//We'll rise above these earthly cares  
  
He stood up and grasped her hand firmly, kissing her   
chastely on the lips. With ethereal smiles, they walked   
towards the rear of the church, out the set of large wooden  
double doors, and into the light.  
  
-//Cast your eyes on the ocean  
-//Cast your soul to the sea  
-//When the dark night seems endless  
-//Please remember me  
-//Please remember me  
  
****   
  
EPILOGUE - LACROIX  
  
A bittersweet ending to a long life...  
  
Nicholas was a strong individual, weakened by the scars of  
his own foolish emotions. He chose is path, as you can   
choose yours, for himself. I maintain that love will only  
bring harm, but I am sure that Nicholas would beg to differ.   
  
Only he knows now, how everything turned out for himself.   
Perhaps he is with his Natalie in eternity, or perhaps not.   
I suppose I will always wonder, but that cannot be helped...  
I shall move on, and so will all of Nicholas's little mortal   
friends. That is the nature of human spirit... To triumph   
over loss.   
  
And so I leave you with this, dear reader. Embrace my words  
and my message.  
  
Carpe Noctem.  
  
THE END  
  
  



End file.
